“My family is vaguely Anglican, like everyone else, but the truth is that we rarely went to church in India. On Sundays, Mother took me for picnics under hot, cloudless skies. We’d sit on a blanket and listen to the wind whip across dry land, whistling to us.
“This is our church,” she’d say combing fingers through my hair.”
“And it turned out that Mama had been right: things did go more smoothly. Once they got into the good manners habit, they didn’t even have to think about it.”